


Frisk's Imagination Forest

by anonemones



Series: Kageroutale [5]
Category: Kagerou Project, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANNA DO THOSE ONES, Fluff, Gen, also i worked on this instead of night talk deceive, and brave asriel, and flowey's state of the world, but like they happen before this one so whoops, simply bc this portion of the au doesn't fit the kagerou timeline, this one actually kinda follows undertale more than kagerou project, this one's a happy one!!! :D, whatever, which you'll see will happen more after this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonemones/pseuds/anonemones
Summary: Now now now, from a spark insideI had imagined a new world for me to live inWhere they love me I feel it ringing out nowHey hey, what does this world look likeI wanna know please tell me just how then can I get thereSo if I'm ever lostHey will you search for me once again?





	Frisk's Imagination Forest

The mob had come without any warning.

“This is the place—”

“Get them!”

Frisk watches from their bedroom as the first rock shatters one of the living room windows, the shouts outside growing louder, and louder. The people outside are vicious; though they can’t see much of the crowd, from the doorway they can catch a glance of angry faces staring through the glass, people outside banging their fists against it, some holding knives, burning bottles. Guns.

Their mother panics down below, watching the chaos in their kitchen, rushing for the stairs. She’s stopped by another rock that hits her in the back of her head, dazing her, knocking her down. Her face whacks against the stairs. She doesn’t get up.

Their father’s not home; completely unaware of the events unfolding.

They don’t know why there are people surrounding their home, or why they’re screaming, or why they’re throwing things into their house. They duck further into their bedroom, hands covering their eyes.

Don’t look, they tell themselves, don’t look, and it’ll all go away.

But it doesn’t.

There is a brief movement from their mother on the staircase, the woman beginning to pull herself up, as the front door kicks in. The crowd rushes in, tripping over one another in their fury.

“There’s one of them!”

“Don’t let her get away!”

Frisk’s eyes fill with tears as the crowd surrounds their mother, overwhelming in numbers and power. They stumble forward as the kicking starts, the mauling, people throwing punches and swinging knives.

A gunshot goes off.

Frisk screams.

 _Why?_ The question consumes them. _Why are they doing this? Why are they hurting Momma…?_

Truly, humans could be cruel creatures.

“There!”

Frisk’s eyes widen as heads turn in their direction, whimpering. They back into their bedroom, their door still ajar, unsure of what to do.

Their eyes are still focused on where their mother lies, draining of life the more time passes.

And there is a very clear message that Frisk’s mother’s eyes read as they dim.

 _Run_.

“It’s the fucker’s _brat_ —”

“Don’t let it get away!”

“Move outta my way—”

The bodies begin swarming up the steps, a jumbled, angry mass, all charging towards the terrified child. Someone drops—or maybe throws, they’re not sure—one of the burning bottles. The carpet catches on fire, starting to burn.

Frisk slams their bedroom door shut, screaming at the top of their lungs. _No, no, no, no, no—_

They turn towards their room, looking around. There isn’t much else to turn to, really; besides their bed and closet, their room is bare, leaving them with no way to defend themselves with. Not that they could hold off a mob on their own, anyway.

The only exit they have is their window, swaying gently in the breeze outside. Though on the second story, the fall shouldn’t be that bad…

…right?

 _BAM_.

Someone slams into the door. Frisk, flinching, jumps away, glancing over their shoulder to their bed. _I wonder…_

Sniffling, ignoring the tears pouring from their eyes, Frisk grabs the covers on their bed and throws them out of the window, climbing onto the window sill.

 _CRACK_ —someone kicks their foot through the door, wood splintering behind them.

“They’re getting away!”

“ _Stop them_ —”

Frisk doesn’t hesitate a moment longer. Spreading their arms out, closing their eyes, the child dips forward, allowing themselves to fall.

Admittedly, it’s a very short fall, though it feels like forever when you’re afraid for your life. Everything blurs around them, flipping headlong, lost to the cries above them as they descend.

And then, they land.

The covers do little to cushion their fall, their shoulder crying out when they land on it. Frisk gasps, the breath knocked from their lungs, gritting their teeth as they grip their shoulder. It’s probable they dislocated it, though they’re not sure—they can’t tell stuff like that yet, not at their age.

But, they’re alive. And that’s all that matters to them.

They become aware of people staring down at them and climb to their feet, running off into the woods just beyond their backyard.

They’d be naive to think they weren’t being followed.

As they duck through the trees, their face stained with their tears and breath broken by sobs, Frisk keeps their eyes trained on the distant silhouette of a mountain, known notably as Mt. Ebott. They aim for it, running right up to it and climbing up, fully aware of the centuries-old legend that they might never come back.

They may never see the light of day again, they know, as they stare down into an endless black crevice in the mountain’s face.

But after what’s happened, and all they’ve lost, what is there to go back to?

Frisk allows the darkness to swallow them up, and the mob—losing sight of them—is forced to fall back. There’s no victory to be gained by following after a suicidal child, after all.

They’d had their fill of bloodlust, anyway—of which would never be forgiven.

_I’m sorry._

 

_“Hello, my child.”_

_“You seem to have fallen far, have you not? Here…let me help you with that.”_

_“My, you’ve gone through a lot. I would hate to imagine what brought you down here…what is your name? …Can you not tell me? Well, that is alright. I will introduce myself, anyway.”_

_“I am Toriel. I am…your guardian angel. And I will protect you from now on, now that you bare my mark. Do you understand this?”_

_“…Excellent. I will send you back.”_

_“_ Please stay safe, my child. _”_

 

Frisk wakes up on a bed of blue, glowing flowers, surrounded in an odd, repetitive hum.

Sitting up, dirt and blood caked into their hair, Frisk rubs at their head, whimpering. _Hurts…_ They wince at the pulsing at their temples, climbing to their feet and dusting themselves off.

They pause at the sight of something glowing on their chest.

_What…?_

A flower protrudes from a hole gutted into their body, glowing a similar blue to that of the flowers that broke their fall. It hums a low, continuous tune, and it’s this that they realize is what they’re hearing, echoed by the flowerbed. It hums in tune with their heartbeat, mimicking it’s pounding in a steady rhythm.

Frisk stares at it in awe, thumbing it curiously. “…Whoa…”

“ _Whoa_ …” the flower repeats them, the child gasping in response.

 _It repeats what it hears?_ They furrow their eyebrows, frowning a little. _This is…confusing…_

_…And creepy…_

_Snap!_

Frisk jolts their head up at the noise, looking around at the empty space around them. “Hello?” they ask, their voice hoarse. Quiet.

The Echo flowers down the hall glow brighter, a giggle passed between them almost like a conversation. When Frisk steps closer, they notice a red scarf disappear into the next room, vanishing out of sight.

Panicking, they follow after it, running despite the ache in their bones. “ _Ack_ —h-hey, wait—”

They stop just inside the next room, panting, looking for the person in question.

And, they find them—but, the person walking away from them can barely be called human. He’s tall, skeletal; and by that, they realize the person has no skin. A skeleton quite literally walks away from them into the next room, a red scarf billowing behind him as he hums an odd tune under his breath.

 _Did he not hear me?_ Frisk wonders, hand gripping their shirt. They’re too startled to speak.

Their question is answered when the skeleton turns to look at them over his shoulder, smiling an odd, playful smile before ducking into the doorway. Gone again.

Frisk blinks, frowning. _Is—he’s doing this on purpose…_

_…Does he want me to follow him?_

Looking around at the empty room, they sigh, shaking their head. They have nothing better to do, they supposed.

Slowly, the child follows after the stranger, unaware that the person they’re after is long dead—but then again, the echoes of the past work in strange ways.

Not that Papyrus is complaining any.

 

Frisk is surprised to find an abundance of other monsters roaming the area.

They come to find that the lonely, abandoned city is referred to as the Ruins. Many of their encounters are met with scared, wary citizens that run away before they can console anyone, or odd tidbits about mercy and items. Though they people here are strange, they’re…friendly. Frisk finds themselves smiling at each new face, making friends as they journey through the area.

The skeleton they’re following doesn’t seem to appear except when Echo flowers are around, which isn’t as often as they’d like, given that he’s the only sense of direction they have. Whenever they try to get close to him, to see him up close, he vanishes, leaving them alone again. It’s a frustrating game, but they can’t really get mad at him, either. Seeing a child covered in blood and a flower jutting from their chest isn’t the most pleasing image.

At last, Frisk finds themselves standing on a platform, surrounded by flowers and useless junk tangled in the roots. The Ruins turn out to be larger than they originally appeared; spanning out for as far as they could see, the buildings tall and a little crumbly, but still intact. It’s…beautiful.

The scene takes their breath away, and Frisk grips the railing in front of them, mouth hanging open _. Wow…this is where the monsters live?_ They think, leaning forward. They can see some running around underneath them, talking to others, doing errands, going to work. They smile. _It’s…homey._

Sighing, Frisk turns away, letting go of the railing and walking off—

_Crunch!_

They stop when they step on a stack of papers.

It looks like a newspaper. Recent, though dirtied, abandoned and left on the ground to rot. The roots held it in place, keeping it from flying away.

They wouldn’t have thought anything of it if it’s not for the Echo flowers humming around them, urging them to read it.

Frisk picks it up, wondering what it says. _Probably politic stuff…_

It’s not politic stuff.

At least, not fully.

“KING GOES MISSING.”

“ROYAL SCIENTIST’S ASSISTANT KILLED—WHO IS TO BLAME?”

“SUSPECTED MURDER OF KING CAUSES CHAOS.”

Frisk gasps as they see the main headlines on the front, caught off guard. Nobody had mentioned this to them—but then again, maybe they hadn’t thought to. Nobody has noticed they’re human yet, so they might’ve just assumed they’d known.

_Who—who would do such a thing?_

The newspaper crumbles in the child’s hands, shaking, their anger lashing out at their surroundings. The flower in their chest twists. Their eyes fill with tears.

_Why are people killing each other…?_

They have half the mind to throw the newspaper back into the pile of junk lying around them, but they stop when another headline on the page catches their eyes. Filled with a wariness that can only come with exhaustion and rage, Frisk reads it, not sure what they’re expecting by doing so.

Their heart stops in their chest.

“ROYAL SCIENTIST’S SON KILLS HIMSELF AFTER DEATH OF MOTHER.”

The headline itself is heartbreaking. Suicide is something Frisk is familiar with; they’d attempted it not long ago. But the picture that accompanies the title stops them cold.

The person in the picture is a skeleton—tall, awkward. He’s smiling anxiously in the photo, fidgeting with the scarf around his neck, surrounded by friends and what looks to be his family. He looks…tired. A flower is stitched onto the front of his scarf, and Frisk doesn’t have to guess what type of flower it is.

Frisk drops the newspaper, backing away. _Oh my God…_

_Crack!_

“ _…Hello there._ ”

A twig breaks behind them, followed by a voice. The child flinches, turning around.

Though they’ve seen him several times before, they still can’t stop themselves from screaming at the sight of the skeleton. He looks exhausted, skinnier than before, his shoulders slumped as he approaches them. He smiles in greeting, stopping just short of meeting them, his body covered in vines and petals.

Just like them, an Echo flower blooms from his chest, glowing a bright blue—its roots wrapped around his bones, caught in his clothes.

 _Am I gonna end up like that?_ Frisk twists the hem of their sweater in their hands, whimpering. _I hope not…_

The skeleton addresses the frightened child curiously, chuckling. “ _What’s wrong?_ ” his voice comes through the flowers around them, not the skeleton himself, and they realize now why he hadn’t talked to them sooner. They would have known he wasn’t really “himself.” No reason to do that now that they know he’s dead. “ _It’s okay—I won’t hurt you._ ”

Still, Frisk doesn’t move. They don’t respond.

“ _…You must be the human Toriel told me about,_ ” he tries, wringing his hands. “ _I tried my best to guide you, considering she can’t, but—I can’t really be around when there’s nothing to keep me rooted…_ ” His face visibly falls. He groans, running a hand over his face. “ _…I can’t believe I just told a pun_.”

Frisk snorts, shaking their head. _This is so absurd…but kinda funny, too_.

The skeleton perks up at their laughter, grinning. “ _You like puns?_ ” he asks, bouncing. “ _I know someone who likes puns, too! Though…I haven’t seen him in a long time…_ ” He trails off, looking away. Then, he sticks out his hand for the other to shake. “ _I’m…I’m Papyrus. I’m—well, I’m dead. But I promise, I’m not going to hurt you. You have nothing to fear_.”

Frisk winces when the monster reaches for them, backing up into the railing. They shake, hiding their face in their hands. They don’t make any moves of shaking his hand—but, they don’t try to run away, either.

Papyrus sees this as a victory. A decisive one, but a victory. “ _Hey, it’s alright, little human! Like I said, I’m dead—I can’t hurt anyone! Though, um, I don’t know any monsters who’d hurt anyone else, either, so you should be safe! …Mostly._ ” He frowns, though its only for a second. “ _I…I am not aware of everything that you’ve gone through, but I promise that you are safe here. You won’t be harmed! Please, just…can’t we be friends? I even set up your room and everything!_ ”

Frisk gives the monster a quizzical look, lifting their head to look at him.

Papyrus blushes, “ _Uhhhh_ …” He clears his throat, dropping his hand. “ _Gee, this sure is difficult! Talking to the Echo Club was much easier! How—how do I gain their trust…?_ ”

Frisk watches the skeleton talk to himself, tilting their head in amusement. _He’s so weird_. “Um…” They break off into a cough, their throat still sore, “I-I don’t…really know what’s going on…”

The skeleton lights up at that. “ _Of course you don’t! How silly of me—I shouldn’t have assumed you knew everything falling down here!_ ” He chuckles, gesturing away from the platform, back the way they came. “ _Well, I can’t discuss it here—it’d be weird to other people to see you talking to yourself! Toriel’s home is full of these Echo flowers, so we can talk there—but not for very long, I’m—I’m_ very _tired_.”

Frisk doesn’t understand what he means at first, but then, not long after he says it, they notice his legs begin to shimmer, disappearing for a quick second before reappearing _. Yeah, I guess that makes sense._ “…Who is Toriel?” they ask finally, frowning. “I don’t know her.”

“ _Who is_ Toriel _?_ ” Papyrus gasps. “ _Oh, my. You_ really _don’t know what’s going on…_ ”

Frisk shakes their head. They hesitate, sniffling. “I-I’m really scared…wh-what if—what if—”

_What if I die?_

“ _Shh_.”

Frisk is startled into silence when the skeleton hugs them, warm and comforting. Which is surprising, given that he’s made of bone and is dead. They melt into it, crying into his sweater.

_I’m so scared…_

_…Please don’t hurt me._

_I don’t want you to hurt me._

Papyrus seems to hear them, somehow, because when he lets them go, he’s smiling differently than he had before. Almost in a reassuring manner. “ _Not to worry, human,_ ” he tells them, patting their head, “ _there is nothing to worry about. Monsters are nice! I can even prove it to you—if you’ll trust me._ ”

Frisk sniffs, wiping at their eyes as they look up at the skeleton. They hesitate, looking back down at the ruined city below, before smiling, sighing. “O-Okay.” They giggle at the skeleton’s giddy reaction, beginning to head out of the room. “I’ll try.”

“ _Excellent! I’ll see you at Home!_ ” He smiles, beginning to fade. “ _I hope you like it here_.”

And he fades, Frisk walking towards the house they’d seen just before they’d walked to the platform. The Echo flowers laugh as they pass, and they smile, unaware that this place that they’d found out of misfortune and loss, would become their home for quite some time.


End file.
